The “little peach blossoms” that were originally smooth on his chest could be seen tightening and gathering bit by bit, forming distinct little mountain peaks.
In fact, this reaction was perfectly normal. The skin on his chest had just been wiped with a hot towel, and the sudden shock of cold air naturally caused the epidermis to contract and form goosebumps.
But He Wenqi’s mind wasn’t clean; what he was thinking was…
So… sensitive?!
His gaze even flickered downward…
“What are you looking at?” Han Ji’s voice suddenly rang out.
He had opened his eyes at some unknown point. His voice wasn’t loud and was somewhat slurred, but it nearly made He Wenqi jump out of his skin.
Even though he hadn’t actually done anything, it felt as if he had been caught red-handed with his thoughts exposed. His heart drummed like a war corp.
On the surface, however, he remained as calm as a light breeze: “I was looking at whether it would be easier to drag you by your feet or by your head.”
“Drag what?” Han Ji wasn’t entirely sober.
He Wenqi looked down at him from above: “Drag you to get your skin scalded [wash up], or do you plan to just sleep directly like this, all stinking?”
“Are you… going to help me shower?”
He Wenqi had no such intention; he had just picked those words at random to cover up his panic.
“Since you’re awake, do it yourself. I’m going back to my room.”
He Wenqi tossed the towel casually into the basin in the bathroom, picked up his bag, and prepared to leave.
“I’m thirsty, I want water,” the person on the bed mumbled.
“Isn’t there some by the bed?” He Wenqi pointed to the mineral water provided by the hotel.
Han Ji propped himself up halfway and looked at him expectantly: “I want it hot.”
He Wenqi walked to the bedside and dialed the front desk: “Yes, Suite Seven, I’d like a cup of hot water.” He glanced at Han Ji. “And a cup of hot milk as well. Right, thank you.”
Picking up his bag again: “The waiter will bring it up in a moment. Just wait a bit.”
“I feel like throwing up, quick, help me to the bathroom.” Han Ji stood up wobbling, a “mgh” sound coming from his throat.
He Wenqi quickly dropped his bag and stepped forward to support him. More than half of Han Ji’s body weight pressed down, and he instantly felt the overwhelming burden.
With great difficulty, he managed to get the man to the bathroom. He Wenqi folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe to catch his breath: “How are you even built? You don’t look fat, so why are you so heavy?”
Han Ji bent over, supporting himself on the basin as he turned on the tap and splashed water over his face. After quite a while, he stood up, shook the water droplets off his hands, and turned around. He raised one hand over He Wenqi’s head, bracing it against the doorframe above: “It’s all muscle—it’s not easy to grow.”
He Wenqi gave a disdainful, cold snort: “What’s the use of training for that? Spending so much time on it—you’d be better off resting at home.”
It seemed “useless” indeed; he seemed to have forgotten in the blink of an eye that he had just secretly pressed on the man’s chest.
Han Ji stared at him, sizing him up and down: “You’re too thin. Are you not eating well or not sleeping well? Getting stomach problems at every turn—is that the result of resting?”
He Wenqi ignored the mockery and patted his arm: “Move aside. It’s been a long day; I’m going back to my room to rest.”
“You’re just going to leave me?” Han Ji looked somewhat aggrieved, tilting his head to look at him. “I drank for you.”
His tall frame blocked most of the doorway. If He Wenqi wanted to get out, Han Ji either had to move, or He Wenqi would have to squat and crawl out through the gap under his arm.
He Wenqi didn’t move, waiting for him to yield.
Han Ji didn’t yield, his gaze locking onto the other man.
The water on his face hadn’t been wiped away and dripped downward. The neck that had been dried earlier was damp again, and his shirt was soaked through along with it, the front placket clinging tightly to his chest.
The heartbeat that had slowed down began to quicken again.
The two were blocked at the door, eyes locked, in a stalemate where neither would move.
Ding-dong—
The doorbell rang. The waiter had arrived with the milk.
Han Ji released his hand and rubbed his temples: “Sss—dizzy.”
He Wenqi shot him a sideways glance, walked over to open the door, took the milk and hot water, and set them down heavily on the living room table: “President Han, do you have any other instructions? If not, I’m going to my room to sleep.”
Han Ji walked dejectedly to the living room and slumped onto the sofa, his head leaning back, his two long legs sprawling out to the sides: “Headache, help me massage it.”
There was no movement from the person behind him. Han Ji called out again.
He Wenqi: “President Han, how about I call a special room service for you? A full-service package that can do everything, including taking good care of you.”
Han Ji: “You’re very familiar with that sort of thing? Have you done it before?”
Yesterday’s slap clearly hadn’t hurt enough.
He Wenqi walked straight to the door and closed it with a “bang.”
…
He Wenqi had also drunk that evening, though not much; Han Ji had indeed drunk a lot in his place.
From leaving for the airport in the morning until now, he had barely stopped to rest.
He was staying in a single room. After returning to his room, he took a comfortable bath, finally washing away the fatigue from his body.
Before he could lie down to rest, the internal room phone rang. It was the hotel front desk.
“Is this Mr. He Wenqi?”
“Speaking. Is something the matter?”
“Mr. He, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but it’s… the Mr. Han who came with you. Something has happened.”
He Wenqi’s heart tightened: “What happened to him?”
The staff member hurriedly explained: “No, no, he hasn’t had an accident. It’s just that something he asked us to do wasn’t handled well, so he’s a bit angry.”
He Wenqi breathed a sigh of relief, guessing that Han Ji was probably throwing a “boss tantrum,” having grown accustomed to scolding people at the company.
“I’ll go over and have a look.”
“We’re sorry to trouble you. It was our failure to provide satisfactory service.” The hotel staff maintained their professional poise and hung up.
He Wenqi sighed silently, took off his bathrobe, pulled on a sweater, put on his jeans, stepped into the hotel slippers, and took the elevator up three floors.
The door to Han Ji’s room was open. Two staff members were standing at the door. There were shattered glass fragments on the carpet and a large puddle of an unidentified liquid.
“What’s going on?” He Wenqi asked.
Hearing the voice outside, another hotel employee came out of the room—a man in his early thirties who looked like a manager based on his attire.
“Are you Mr. He?” he asked.
He Wenqi nodded.
“Hello, I am the floor manager, surname Jiang.” Manager Jiang extended his hand to greet him politely.
“I am truly sorry to disturb you so late. It’s like this: Mr. Han called to order whisky, and we sent someone up, but Mr. Han said it wasn’t the brand he wanted. That was our mistake for not asking clearly beforehand which one Mr. Han preferred. So, our staff asked for the brand again so we could correct it immediately and bring it to him.”
At this point, Manager Jiang paused slightly, his hands clasped together, maintaining a pleasant smile: “It’s possible Mr. Han himself didn’t remember very clearly and couldn’t recall the name. We sent over every brand of whisky the hotel has for Mr. Han to choose from. But Mr. Han wasn’t satisfied with any of them, saying none of them were right.”
“We didn’t handle the matter well, so it’s natural for Mr. Han to be angry. You see, it’s very late now, and it wouldn’t be good if this affected other guests. That’s why we asked you to come—since you came together, perhaps you know which brand of whisky Mr. Han wants to drink? Even if the hotel doesn’t have it, we can find a way to search for it.”
After listening, He Wenqi asked Manager Jiang to take his people and leave; he would handle the rest.
Manager Jiang thanked him and had someone clean up the glass shards on the floor.
He Wenqi locked the door and entered the room.
Han Ji was sitting on the sofa with his head back and eyes closed, one hand pinching his temple. Hearing the movement, he didn’t even look up, but roared: “Wrong, wrong, all wrong, none of them are right! Find it for me again!”
“What are you making a fuss about in the middle of the night? Is there a brand of whisky you absolutely must drink right this second?” He Wenqi approached and saw a row of wine bottles lying haphazardly on the coffee table.
Han Ji lazily fluttered his eyelids: “Why did you come over?”
“It seems you didn’t drink enough to be comfortable tonight. Come on, I’ll drink with you.”
He Wenqi took a clean glass from the side, poured half a glass at random, then poured some for Han Ji. Without looking at him, he lightly clinked his glass against the other, tilted his head, and drained it.
He didn’t stop, continuing to pour another half glass. He clinked it against Han Ji’s untouched glass again and drained it a second time.
Still not stopping, He Wenqi poured a third glass.
Han Ji sat up and reached out to stop him: “What are you doing? This liquor is very strong; you can’t handle it.”
He Wenqi pulled the glass back to avoid him and said coldly: “You can handle it, but I can’t?” As he spoke, the third glass went down his throat.
He continued to pour a fourth.
Han Ji snatched the glass from his hand.
He Wenqi didn’t look at him; he simply picked up the bottle and started pouring it into his mouth.
Han Ji stood up and grabbed it, then threw it with force against a bare wall. With a sharp crash, the bottle exploded into flying shards.
“He Wenqi, what kind of madness has possessed you! I told you this liquor is strong; your stomach won’t be able to take it!”
He Wenqi’s hand was empty; maintaining his grip on nothingness, he used his slightly bent index finger knuckle to rub his lips, which were wet with alcohol. He sneered: “I was about to ask—what kind of madness has possessed you?”
“Have I [possessed madness]?”
“You haven’t? You haven’t made such a fuss that the hotel staff had to call me!”
Han Ji sat back down, lowering his head and saying nothing.
“Where is your heart unhappy again? Who has provoked you, President Han? Didn’t you want to drink? Come on, I’ll just drink with you.”
There was a row of alcohol on the table. He Wenqi reached out for another bottle.
Before he could lift it, Han Ji snatched it and threw it against the wall again.
He Wenqi reached for another; Han Ji snatched and smashed it again.
He Wenqi reached for yet another. This time, he didn’t wait for Han Ji to snatch it; he picked it up himself and smashed it against the wall.
This time, Han Ji hadn’t expected it and was stunned.
As the bottle shattered with a crash, He Wenqi found that the unhappiness in his heart seemed to have been thrown out along with it, feeling much lighter as the bottle exploded.
He turned to look at Han Ji and smiled provocatively.
Han Ji closed his eyes and ground his teeth, then opened them and rolled up his sleeves. Not to be outdone, he grabbed a bottle and threw it even more forcefully against the wall.
It was as if a competition had begun between the two—one bottle for you, one bottle for me, each time with more force, each time feeling more relieved. In the blink of an eye, all the alcohol on the coffee table had been smashed.
Just as Han Ji threw the last bottle, the room’s doorbell rang again.
No need to guess what it was about.
With such a loud commotion, it would be abnormal if no one came.
He Wenqi was slightly out of breath, and both he and Han Ji were bent over with their hands on their knees.
The doorbell kept ringing “ding-dong” repeatedly, but neither went to open it.
In a moment, the room phone also rang. The sounds inside and outside the room rose and fell in succession, yet still, no one moved.
Manager Jiang outside the door had run out of patience. He pounded on the door anxiously: “You two, whatever is wrong, talk it out nicely! Don’t get physical!”
Inside, the two looked at each other and simultaneously burst into a snort of laughter. It then became increasingly uncontrollable, their bodies shaking violently until they both finally laughed out loud.
Han Ji smoothed back the short hair that had fallen over his forehead and slumped back into the sofa, drained of energy.
He Wenqi glanced at him, tilted his head back to suppress his laughter, wiped the corner of his eyes, and finally went to open the door.